I wrote this poem the other morning. Whenever I get up before it's light out I think of Robert Louis Stevenson's "Bed in Summer." (http://www.poetryfoundation.o
rg/poem/171943)

Sweat in Winter (an homage to RLS’s Bed in Summer)

In winter I get up at night
And sweat by monitor’s glowing light
In summer, quite the other way,
I like to go outside and play

I like to go to lake and swim
Sunlight and water, instead of gym
Or walk through woods of shady trees
And marvel on the flowers and bees

So does it not seem strange to you
With all that I in summer do
By lake and woods and park I play
And yet, by winter, this much I weigh?